but until she had a few more answers, she’d be abusing her job if she succumbed to the urge
Stepping out of the room, she gently put her hand under Crystal’s chin and raised her head until the girl finally looked at her. “Did your aunt have enemies?”
Crystal shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“I don’t understand any of this and you’re not helping,” Hollis said.
The angry lines around Crystal’s mouth and eyes disappeared. Her brown eyes filled with tears. “I’ll never see her again,” she sobbed.
Not the time to give the child the third degree. Hollis pulled her close and hugged her. “I’m sure you will, but you must help me if we’re going to find her. Let’s have another look in your room and see if we can figure something out.” She released Crystal. With shoulders bowed like a prisoner facing execution, the child walked directly to the cupboard in her room, where she clutched a blue velour robe hanging on the back of the door, buried her face in the robe’s soft folds, pulled it from its hook, and sank to the floor.
Jay squatted beside her, wrapped her arms around her friend, and rocked her. “You don’t know she’s gone for good. Hollis will find her. She’s really smart and her boyfriend’s smart too. Don’t worry, we’ll get her back.”
Tears filled Hollis’s eyes. Given that Jay had lost her own mother when she was a young child and her longtime foster mother only months earlier, it was clear that she related to Crystal’s pain. Maybe, if they could find Crystal’s aunt, in some small way it might compensate Jay for her losses.
“I’ll speak to the police at the door….” Her voice trailed away. What would she say? If there had been an abduction, how had the abductor managed to get a grown woman out of the apartment and the building without attracting attention? It seemed like an impossible task. Furthermore, unless there were clear indications of foul play, the police counseled waiting twenty-four hours before filing a missing persons report.
Crystal dropped the dressing gown, stopped crying, and stared wide-eyed at Hollis. “No. No police. Never. No police.” A shuddering sob. “No. Don’t do that.”
Crystal might not know or admit that she knew whatever it was that her aunt was involved with, but she knew the police mustn’t be called.
Whether she liked it or not, Hollis had a job: finding Mary Montour.
TEN
Rhona and Ian finished the tenant interviews at seven thirty.
“What have we got?” Ian asked as he swept the relevant documents into a pile on Hollis’s desk.
“Not much. Those first interviews told us the most.”
“No one knew anything about Ms. Trepanier or her background. That has to be a priority. Her appointment book and her laptop may provide useful connections,” Ian said.
“First we need to eat. Let’s walk over to Yonge Street and pick up a burger,” Rhona said, thinking that junk food was the police officer’s secret enemy.
“Good idea. While we’re there I’ll tell you about the construction workers. One knew more about the fifth floor residents than he should have.”
Leaving officers to monitor, to take the names of any tenants to whom they hadn’t spoken, and to caution them not to leave the area, the two detectives walked to Yonge Street and crossed to a pub.
Inside the door a sound wave smacked them. The place was hopping and the decibel level approached the auditory danger mark.
“We can’t talk here. There’s a Tim Hortons down the block, but it isn’t conducive to quiet chatting. I wonder where else we can get a quick bite?” Rhona shouted.
“A friend of mine lives near here. We often eat at Terroni. Good Italian food. It’s a block south of St. Clair.”
A friend? Male or female? Rhona longed to ask, but Ian would sniff disdainfully and ask her why she wanted to know.
Pedestrians thronged Yonge Street. People exited from the St. Clair Centre coming from the subway stop in the basement or from a thriving Goodlife Fitness Studio. Terroni proved quieter than the pub and they followed the hostess to a table that promised privacy.
Rhona informed the server that they were in a hurry. After taking a minute to survey the large menus, they chose the day’s special, penne with a rose vodka sauce, and Verde salads. While they waited Rhona gave in to temptation and enjoyed the warm bread that she dipped in olive oil and balsamic vinegar.
Ian refused the bread. As Rhona worked her way through the contents of the bread basket he said nothing, but she took his silence and raised eyebrows to reveal his contempt for her obvious lack of willpower.
Munching happily, she chose to ignore his attitude. Instead she said, “What about the construction workers?”
Ian sipped his water. “Most had no idea who lived in the building and only cared about doing the job.” He folded his hands in his lap. “But one young guy with dark hair and dark skin, maybe East Asian or Aboriginal, said he always looked in the apartments when they worked on the balconies. Didn’t seem the slightest bit embarrassed either.”
“Did he admit that he knew any women on the fifth? According to Hollis, the owners replaced their balconies when they renovated the building a couple of years ago.”
“Said his boss worked on them but that was years before he was around.”
“Get any background on him?” Rhona asked as she reached in her bag to make sure she’d switched on her cell phone.
“He’d only been here a couple of weeks. When I asked him what he did before this job, he said he’d worked on high steel construction.”
The server delivered their meals. Both opted for freshly ground parmesan, and after the initial taste, agreed they’d chosen well and ate in silence for several minutes.
Rhona took the opportunity to study Ian. Although they’d now worked together on several cases, she wasn’t any closer to knowing more than a few facts about him. Reticent didn’t begin to describe her partner. To herself she acknowledged how appealing she found him, but he’d given no indication that he was attracted to her. Probably just as well. The department frowned on romances between detectives.
“Why are you staring at me?” Ian said.
“Sorry, I was thinking about what you said. Often Newfoundlanders and Iroquois work on high steel. They built half the skyscrapers in Manhattan and are famous for their ability and skill, and most of all for their lack of fear when cavorting around forty floors above the ground.” She popped the last morsel of bread in her mouth. “Was he an Aboriginal?”
“Could have been. Would that be important?”
“Might be. We don’t know for sure that Ms. Trepanier was the real target. After all, Ginny Wuttenee usually occupied that bed, and Ginny’s a Saskatchewan Cree. Could be a coincidence, but we’ll follow up on this guy. What’s his name?”
Ian pulled his notebook from his pocket and consulted it. “Donald Hill,”
